


Gravity

by bearhollow



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Hurt, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23866669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearhollow/pseuds/bearhollow
Summary: This is an eventual FredRobin fic, encapsulated in a series of little moments. I mostly follow the game plot but jazz it up a little. Updates will be slow, so thank you for your patience!Is Robin getting axed in the back considered "graphic depictions of violence" for a Fire Emblem fic? That's about as bad as it gets.
Relationships: Chrom/Sumia (Fire Emblem), Frederick & My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Frederick/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	1. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This basically follows the post-prologue, pre-burning town beginning part of the game, with some changes and artistic liberties, so skip it if you're tired of that part.

A faint breeze picked up, tickling a loose strand of hair across her cheek until she instinctively slapped it away and woke up. She wondered how she hadn’t noticed the smell before as she realized she was nose-deep in a pile of cold ashes. She shot up rather quickly and looked down in dismay at her soot-covered clothes. “Not again,” she thought. Though she couldn’t remember a specific time, it seemed that this sort of thing happened a lot to her. At least nothing appeared singed.

At the sound of footsteps clanging toward her, she looked up and saw three oddly dressed people running out of the woods. “Where’s that guy’s sleeve?” she wondered to herself as they hustled over.

“Are you okay? We saw a huge flash of light over here!” the one-sleeved man, the color of whose clothes matched his hair, asked. She noticed that he didn’t seem tired at all, nor did the giant, likewise in blue armor, although the little yellow girl beside them was panting pretty heavily.

“I’m fine. I was, uh,” she couldn’t quite recall what she had been doing, “taking a nap?”

“A nap?” demanded the giant. “In the middle of a scorched circle in the grass?”

“Well, it’s not an ideal place, but I suppose it was warm and toasty for a while. Bug-free, too. You don’t find that often around here, right?” Words just kept tumbling out of her mouth. She couldn’t help it; his bone structure and hawkish eyes were very attractive.

The giant didn’t find her amusing. “Milord, I know little of magic, but this appears to be the remnants of a teleportation spell, and a powerful one at that. She could be sent from our enemies.”

“True,” the blue guy acknowledged (what was his name again? It was just on the tip of her tongue).

“But, Chrom, we have to do something,” the yellow girl protested, gesturing toward the soot-covered mess before them. Chrom! That was his name! How could she have forgotten?

“Well, what do you propose we do?” he asked. He let out a really long sigh and scratched the back of his head. The soot-covered mess felt a bit uncomfortable, being stared at by these strangers; the yellow girl peered inquisitively, while the handsome giant outright glared her into the dirt. Suddenly, Chrom turned toward her with a smile, which was somehow more disarming than the others. “Well, there are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know. Give me your hand.”

She realized that she was still kneeling in the ashes. She put her hand in his, noticing for the first time a strange tattoo on the back of her own. “Where does one get purple ink?” she wondered as he dragged her to her feet. She patted off the soot self-consciously.

“Thank you, Chrom,” she said.

This drew a reaction from the handsome giant. “How do you know his name?”

She really didn’t know how she did, but she thought of a plausible excuse so she didn’t have to explain her spotty memory. Heck, she couldn’t even remember her own name, now that she thought of it. “She just said it,” she replied, gesturing toward the yellow girl.

“Fair enough,” the giant cleared his throat. “Now, what is yours?”

“Um… I wanna say… Actually, I don’t remember. Maybe I hit my head or something.”

“A likely story,” the giant sneered. “If you hit your head hard enough to forget your own name, you’d be in a coma or dead.”

“Well, maybe I was. Where are we, anyway? Is this the afterlife?” she joked.

Chrom and the yellow girl furrowed their brows in confusion, while the giant snorted and threw a “Can you believe this pegasus shit?” look at them.

“You really don’t know?” asked Chrom. She shook her head no, so he explained, “This is Ylisse.”

“What, this meadow?” She looked around her, seeing, apart from the aforementioned burned grass, unburnt grass and wildflowers, encircled by a ring of deciduous trees.

“Um, no. The country. The Halidom? Of Ylisse? Wow, she must have hit her head bad,” he muttered the last bit.

“Ha, somebody pay this actress. She plays quite the fool!” the giant scoffed. Her cheeks grew hot.

“B-but it’s the truth! Or maybe I really am just that stupid!” Her chest tightened. She regretted entering into a conversation with these people.

“… What if it IS true, Frederick? We can’t just leave her here, alone and confused,” Chrom mused.

“Leave her alone? If anything, we should stick her in jail. Somebody sent her here, of all places. What if she’s a spy? An assassin?”

“Who exactly am I supposed to be spying on or assassinating?” she retorted, although upon further reflection, she remembered that the giant, Frederick, had called Chrom ‘Milord.’ Was he a nobleman? He was carrying a sword. In fact, they all had weapons; even the little yellow girl had a ridiculously huge axe at her waist. She instinctively felt at her own side and noticed a sheathed sword dangling off her belt, and a holstered book, too. Who _was_ she?

Again, they looked at her critically, unable to tell if she was lying poorly or really was just that stupid. “So, you really don’t know?” Chrom asked.

She raised her shoulders and hands, trying to convey all her confusion and ignorance and mounting frustration in a hopefully universal gesture of I-don’t-have-a-godsdamn-clue-bruh. “I guess? I don’t know what I’m supposed to be knowing, if that makes sense. Except my name, I guess. And why I have a sword. And a book in a holster.” She moved her coat aside to show them.

Frederick drew his lance and lunged into a protective stance in front of Chrom and the yellow girl (she really needed to learn her name). “She’s ARMED? Are you KIDDING me? Milord, we need to arrest her at once!”

“Frederick, calm down!” shouted Chrom. “She didn’t try to hide it. Why would she waste time showing all her cards before she’s dealt them?”

She was getting tired of all this. Thinking just seemed to make her head ache. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll just give these to you. Look, I don’t really know any of you, or myself, or why I’m here, or where I am. All I know is – look, okay, I don’t know anything! Are you going to arrest me or not?”

“Hey, wait, Frederick!” Yellow cried. “I’ve heard of this! It’s called amnesia!”

“It’s called a load of pegasus dung!” he protested, but he returned his lance to his side.

“Enough!” Chrom shouted. Frederick and Yellow stopped and looked at him. “Frederick, we are Shepherds! We can’t go around arresting people for no reason. Look, you, are you feeling okay? Are you hungry?”

She was a little put off by the question. “Uh, I guess? I could go for a drink.”

Chrom nodded. “Let’s just head back to town and we can sort this out there. Maybe someone in the area will recognize you.”

“Maybe,” she repeated, unconvinced. Frederick’s assessment, that someone had teleported her from somewhere far away, didn’t seem too far off the mark. But how far away? And why?

“All right, let’s keep moving. The town we were headed for isn’t too far off. We’ll get something to eat, and maybe that’ll help boost your memory.” He spun on his heel and started off back in the direction they had come from.

“By the way,” she started to say to Yellow, although Frederick kind of moved between them threateningly, “I never got your name.”

“Oh, right!” she smiled as warmly as the sun. “My name’s Lissa. Nice to meet you!” She held out her hand for her to shake.

“Nice to meet you, too. I’m Robin.” Her eyes widened as she realized what she’d said. “Huh, that just came to me.”

Lissa squealed. “You see? Your memory’s already coming back!” Frederick groaned into his hands but didn’t comment.

“That’s encouraging, but we’re burning daylight. Don’t want to walk these woods in the dark,” Chrom called over his shoulder.

“Ah, right! We need to be careful, Robin,” Lissa explained, boldly linking her arm with Robin’s, much to Frederick’s dismay. “There’s all kinds of bandits out in these parts lately.”

“Bandits?” Robin echoed. She noticed that her own legs felt achy, as though the muscles were tired from a long sprint.

“That’s right! Things haven’t been so good in Ylisse lately. You’re lucky we found you instead. Brigands would’ve been a rude awakening!”

“Haha, yeah. But, wait, why are you all out here? In armor? With swords and lances and axes?” Robin looked at all of them quickly.

“We’re heading back to Ylisstol, the capital. Our latest recruitment sesh was a bust, so we’re meeting back up with our friends,” Lissa said.

“Oh, okay.” The shade of trees over the path felt refreshingly cool. “Recruitment, huh? Are you guys soldiers?”

“You could say that,” Chrom said over his shoulder. He was making them walk at a brisk pace. “We’re Shepherds, actually.”

“Shepherds? You tend sheep? … In full armor?”

“Heh, it’s a dangerous job. Just ask Frederick the Wary here.”

“A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution,” he sighed. “I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise.”

Robin didn’t really believe him, but he was so broody and well-proportioned that she forgave him. “I understand, sir. I would do no less myself.”

Chrom interjected, “We can discuss it later. We're almost to town. Once we—"

“Chrom, look! The town!” cried Lissa. She pointed in a gap through the trees as a cloud of smoke slowly rose.

“Gods! Could it be?” Chrom broke out into a full sprint, forcing the rest to keep up with him. Frederick covered the distance with ease, but Robin and Lissa struggled to keep up. She wasn’t used to all this distance…

As the woods ended, the path came upon a small hill. From the top, they could see a small walled town, its thatched roofs burning, with civilians running screaming out of it. “Damn it! The town is ablaze! Those blasted brigands, no doubt... Frederick, Lissa! Quickly!” called Chrom.

Frederick almost took off, but he remembered Robin. “What about her?”

“Unless she's on fire as well, it can wait!” Chrom shouted as he charged into the town, drawing his sword. Frederick cast one glance back at Robin and ran after him.

“Robin, you stay here, okay?” said Lissa, but then she saw Robin’s sword again. “Unless… can you fight?”

“I guess we’ll find out!” cried Robin, hurrying after them.

“Wait! A battlefield’s not the place to find out! Oh, for the love of – Wait for me!”


	2. Before the Sky Rips Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you ever wonder what Robin and Frederick were up to while Chrom and Lissa went wandering through the forest and almost died from lava/Risen? They just kinda show up in the woods, ready to bash some skulls in.

The chirping of a particularly insistent cricket was what woke Frederick up. He couldn’t quite open his eyes or move, so muddied was his brain from a restless sleep, and so he continued to lean against the tree, growing increasingly annoyed by the cricket. Chiiiiiiiiiirp. Chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirp. Chiiiiiii–

All of a sudden his mind clicked into place and his eyes shot open. The dwindling fire glowed, gaining new life by the halfhearted stick poking it. He looked to the side and saw the suspicious girl, Robin, absentmindedly prodding the fire. He looked past the tiny flames and realized with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t see Chrom or Lissa anywhere.

“Where are they?” he demanded, shaking his limbs awake.

Robin turned to him, her head tilted so that her long white hair curled down across her face. In a fluid motion, she dropped the stick and fell back off her ankles. “They said they were having trouble getting comfortable, so they went for a walk. I know you said you were gonna keep watch, but, don’t worry, I’ll make sure the bears and bandits stay away.” She flashed him a thumbs-up sign and quickly dropped it.

His cheeks felt hot. It unnerved him that this probable source of bad news had been alert and watching him while he slept. He cursed himself for not being more diligent. “How long have they been gone?”

“I dunno. Maybe ten minutes? Not long at all.” She turned her attention back to the fire and resumed stirring the embers.

He watched her suspiciously. His gut told him to keep cautious around her, especially when he had remembered what her coat had reminded him of: Plegia. Those symbols and colors were typical of Plegian mages, although she didn’t look like a typical Plegian. Although his heart wanted to believe her story, his mind couldn’t help but be on edge around her, as if she were moments away from turning him into a frog.

“I hope they aren’t lost. I’ll go look for them, just to be safe.” He got to his feet and shook off the stiff feeling in his back. Sleeping against a tree wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. It’s too dark to track them, and they’ll be likelier to see us with the fire than meeting coincidentally in the woods.”

He frowned, annoyed that she was right. So that he wouldn’t have gotten up in vain, he went over to check on the supplies. Not that there was much to see; even with an additional person, they had more than enough food and water for the trip back to Ylisstol.

“You can get some sleep if you want,” he suggested. “I feel more alert now.” That was a total lie, but he preferred her asleep to scheming or plotting.

“Thanks.” She lay down on her stomach, rested her head in the crook of her elbow and tucked her legs up under her coat. Her movements were so efficient that he suspected she did this often. Another tally in the “probable spy” category.

“Do you do this often? Go camping?” he asked.

She flipped her head to peer up at him through her thick lashes. “Not that I can recall. It doesn’t feel very familiar, anyway, being out in the open like this.”

“You don’t seem to mind sleeping on the ground, is all.” He grabbed the last of the sticks and carefully stacked them in the fire. If he kept tending it, maybe it would be bright enough for the prince and princess to see.

“How else would I sleep?” He couldn’t tell from her tone if she were joking or not, but she turned away again and seemed to settle down to sleep.

He sat down in front of the fire and rested his hand on the palm of his hand. Normally he loved nothing more than to spend the night gazing at the campfire, at the tendrils of flame lashing out and dancing, but he couldn’t seem to relax. His mind kept jumping between the absence of Chrom and Lissa and the crumpled heap of coat and hair that Robin had become.

As the minutes ticked on, his worry only grew. Staring at the dark spaces between the trees and waiting for Chrom and Lissa to come walking out of them became unbearable. He decided to focus his gaze on Robin, since she at least was something concrete.

His eyes traced the lines on her coat, especially the strange eyes on her sleeves. He thought back to the earlier battle and the surprising ease she had shown while mowing down enemies with her lightning spells. Her unused sword lay sheathed a small way away from her. Her confidence in ordering them into position, and the surprisingly easy victory they had had, was also mysterious.

A mage and tactician? With Plegian colors and symbols on her coat, she had to have been someone from Plegia, someone from a fairly predominant family at that. Who else could afford to train her, and who else would have need of someone with those skills? But was it the right skillset for a spy or assassin? The more he thought about it, the more outlandish the thought seemed to be. Who would be dumb enough to waltz into enemy territory wearing all but their home country’s flag on their back? A tactician wasn’t someone who operated alone, either. Perhaps she was a minor officer who had decided to defect from the Plegian army?

But it couldn’t have been pure coincidence that she had teleported within such a close range of the prince of the opposing army. And it didn’t make sense, either, that her cover story was amnesia, when she could have just told the truth or made up a better excuse. There were too questions in this story that he didn’t have the answers for. Maybe she wasn’t immediately dangerous, and she had proved useful so far. Perhaps Chrom was right to trust her.

He jumped to his feet as a terrific BOOM went off, echoing through the forest. Robin also jerked up, reaching instinctively for her sword and tome.

“For fuck’s sake,” Frederick hissed as he scrambled to gather the pack and his lance. Robin was also ready to go within a few moments, spinning wildly around to see what was going on. The ground began to tremor beneath their feet, scattering the sticks from the fire across the clearing.

“Look! Over there!” Robin cried. Frederick spun around to see a geyser of fire erupt over the trees in the distance. A forest fire? That suddenly?

“Run! This way!” He took off at a sprint in the opposite direction of the fire, with Robin close at his heels. He kept looking over his shoulder at the terrible but beautiful wave of fire as it gnawed in the distance, growing ever larger.

A woman’s scream tore over the tremors. “Lissa!” they both shouted, turning on a dime in that direction. The rumbling grew more violent until they could no longer run with abandon. Robin beside him tripped on a root, but before he could help her up, used her momentum to roll in a somersault and pop back up again.

“I think I see them!” Robin cried, pointing through the woods. “All right, same strategy as before! You pair up with Chrom to boost his defense, and be sure to conserve uses of your Silver Lance. I’ll team up with Lissa for the magic boost. Break!”

“What the hell are her reasonings?” he wondered as he hurried to catch up to Chrom.


	3. Drunk Robin on a Snowy Rooftop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Khan Flavia throws great parties? I think she would, especially after Basilio's champion gets his butt handed to him and she becomes Khan again.

The wind closed the door behind Frederick with a bang. With the air of a man who has just walked the wrong way through a crowd, he leaned against the wall. The music and noise from the Khan’s party slipped through the doors and windows. Body heat seemed to radiate out of his collar into the cold night air. He stretched it and cast a wild glance around. The warm light from inside cast the balcony in a gentle golden glow.

He noticed a figure perched on the snow-covered rampart. Sudden worry spiked through him. “Be careful!” he called out and walked over to see which drunk had decided to tempt death this time.

He recognized her from the glow of the moonlight on her white hair before she had even turned around. A smile sprang to her lips as she saw him. He remembered vaguely seeing her in a drinking contest with Khan Flavia and wondered how she wasn’t passed out in a corner somewhere.

“Hey, it’s you!” Robin leaned backward toward him, hanging on to the rail for support. Frederick hastily went to her side so she didn’t fall and crack her skull open.

“Isn’t the view amazing?” she asked. He followed her gaze to the snow-covered forest beyond the walls. It stretched far, broken only by a river that curved lazily through the boughs. The light of the full moon lit them faintly, leaving plenty of tempting shadows below the snow.

“Yeah. Can you get down from there?” He placed his palm on the back of her coat to steady her swaying. Gods, it was like he was everybody’s babysitter that night. The scratch on his gauntlet that Vaike had bitten would take a lot of buffing to get out.

She leaned back into his palm and looked up at him with another smile. Her eyes were half-closed in drunken bliss. “No. I’m kinda stuck here. Can you help me down?”

“For the love of—” he sighed. Scooping one arm under her knees and the other across her back, he hoisted her up off the rampart. She was heavier than he’d expected.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders to steady herself and, pulling herself up, bumped her face against his cheek. It took Frederick a second to register that she’d kissed him. The warmth that her lips had pressed against his skin quickly cooled as the wind chilled the drop of saliva left behind. He froze as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“The view looks much better from here,” she teased, gazing into his widened eyes.

“L-let’s get you inside before you freeze to death,” he picked up hastily. He lowered her to the ground, self-conscious about the fact that he had his arm wrapped around her in a sort of hug to keep her from slipping. She let go of his neck reluctantly and brushed the snow off the back of her pants.

“Do you think there’s any beer left, or did Flavia drink it all? Oh, wow, look at the stars. They’re so clear tonight.” She twirled slowly in a circle, her eyes twinkling like the stars.

Frederick’s eyes were on her. It was as though she were a whole different person beneath the light of the full moon and the millions of stars above. He drank in the sight of her until it seemed a bit of her inebriation had passed into him.

“Good night, Freddy bear. Thanks for rescuing me!” She gave him one last shining smile before slipping away back to the party.

He couldn’t stop staring, even as she disappeared behind the door, but the way it slammed shut in the wind jolted him from his reverie.

. . . Freddy bear?


	4. I can't believe Robin's f-ing dead (not really)

Frederick hadn’t even noticed the mage creep up on him until a huge thunderclap announced his demise. Having just dispatched an enemy of his own, he looked back over his shoulder to see Robin standing there, her arm still outstretched and with sparks dissipating from her palm. Rather than her usual triumphant grin, she grimaced as though waiting for a punch she couldn’t dodge.

The punch came in the form of an axe to her back from the only soldier left in the area. She crumpled with a hideous cry, the axe still buried in her. Frederick hurled his javelin through the assailant and directed his horse to her side. Still shocked, he dismounted and examined her; she was still breathing, but it came in ragged gasps and groans.

“Let’s not do that again,” she hissed.

Careful not to dislodge the axe, Frederick scooped her under his arms and draped her across the back of his horse. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, unsure where his anger was coming from. “You could have easily killed that soldier.”

“The mage,” she spat as he climbed back into his saddle. “He was aiming for you. Your res stat is too low; he would have one-shotted you. I – I couldn’t risk it.”

Still not entirely sure what she was talking about, Frederick nevertheless kept one hand on her and one hand on the reins to carry her over to Lissa. It seemed she had retreated to the base of the cliffs along with Maribelle and Ricken, while the rest of the army attacked the wyvern riders above.

Lissa had her back turned, patching up an arrow hole in Ricken. “Milady!” Frederick called out, slowing his horse down so he wouldn’t run over the three of them. Both Lissa and Maribelle turned their heads.

“Frederick! Have you seen – OH GODS, ROBIN!” Lissa shrieked and ran over to Robin’s slumped form.

“Oh, shit!” Ricken seized his arrow-pierced hat in shock. “Now _that’s_ an axe!”

“Ricken, language!” snapped Maribelle. “Allow me, Lissa. I’ve the stronger staff, after all.”

“Hurry!” Lissa cried as Frederick tried to pick Robin up off his horse. The axe wobbled and twisted out of Robin’s back. His ears rang with Robin’s screams as all the blood kept inside by the axe suddenly found a way out. To keep her from falling out of his hands, he scooped her to him in a sort of hug. She dug her head into his armor, wailing through gritted teeth.

Maribelle got to work immediately. As loud and obnoxious as she was, she was a gifted healer, and one bright flash of blue later, the bleeding had completely stopped.

“As expected!” Maribelle smiled, pleased with her own success. She felt the newly healed skin of Robin’s back where the axe had cut its huge hole. “Perfection!”

“Oh, thank you, Maribelle!” Lissa buried her tear-streaked face in Maribelle’s shoulder.

“Of course, darling. Leave her with us, Frederick. She has lost some blood and is likely in shock.”

Frederick realized he was still carrying her, one arm under her legs, the other across her back and his chin pressed into her hair to keep her steady. He knelt on the ground and tried to roll her onto her back. He was struck by how limp she was, her expression vacant like a corpse’s. But her eyes were alert and watching him as he shifted a hand to the back of her head, so she didn’t smack it on the ground.

Lissa, eyes dry, came over and squatted beside Frederick, with one hand on his shoulder to steady herself. “Good job rescuing her, Frederick,” she murmured. “She probably would have died without you.”

“Right,” he said, realizing with a sinking stomach that it could have just as easily been the other way around, with him blasted off his horse by a mage’s spell.

He felt he should thank Robin somehow, so he reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. She didn’t react, and so he got back up, mounted his horse and rode off toward the fighting, a rekindled determination within him that Robin should be the only one so badly injured today.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frederick is hard at work picking up those pesky pebbles. Then, he spots a candle lit when it shouldn't be...

Frederick almost didn't need the moonlight to guide his early morning routine anymore. His fingers knew too well how to find the buckles and straps of his armor and how to pull it all together. Sometimes he wondered if he were still dreaming and was simply putting on his armor in his sleep.

His pebble-rake found its way into his grasp and he set out to sweep the camp. In truth, the rake was nothing more than a broken shovel, but he found that dragging its flattened edge along the dirt was far more effective than trying to squint at the ground. By now, he had dredged up most of the rocks, but he couldn’t be too careful. After all, one pebble had been enough to trip the prince when he was training. That broken leg had cost him months of training and had earned Frederick a nice, shiny beating for not adequately preparing the training ground. Never again.

The task had become almost meditative for him. As mentally stimulating as was scraping a rake up and down the long aisles between the tents and supply crates, he valued this time to reflect on the list of tasks left over from the previous day and to plan new ones in between the daily scheduled activities. It had been a while since he'd been over the Shepherds' food supplies; he'd need to consult with the quartermaster and sign off on any purchase orders. And after their last fight, he would need to oversee repairs to the armor. Sully was usually on top of that, but the wyvern riders had been especially brutal, and, though she'd never admit it, she could use some help tackling the sheer volume of battered armors. And he'd noticed that Maribelle had settled in nicely in the medics' tent, but what of Ricken? Although his magic was strong, he had nearly fallen trying to defend Maribelle. Perhaps it was time to start training him in the use of a weapon, or at least how to properly dodge one.

And… he sighed. He had yet to check in on Robin. He couldn't deny that he'd been avoiding her, even after she had saved his life the previous battle. Not that he felt like he owed her anything; that was what they did, what any soldier did: risk their lives for comrade and country, without expecting anything in return beyond rations and wages. He had saved so many people's lives in battle that he had ceased to remark when it happened. And, though she did not have the martial experience he did, he knew Robin expecting nothing more.

And yet…

His mind gratefully turned to other pressing issues as he recognized the prince's tent. Yes, that battle against Gangrel had been unexpected, and certainly unwelcome. The Exalt had already gone on ahead with the Pegasus Knights, leaving the Shepherds as the rear guard in case the Plegians were too eager to scratch their itch for war. He supposed he should be more vigilant, but the night guard had made no announcement, and this late in the night, the chance of a Plegian strike was low.

The future was less certain. The Exalt had been adamant about demilitarizing the country as much as she could. The massive freestanding army of her father's time had been reduced to the bare bones for years, and half the armories hadn't been evaluated in as much time. Still, even if they were old, the armor and weapons should hold up, and the nobles, especially Maribelle's father, would be keen to muster their armies in defense of their lands. Even if Plegia had a head start, it wouldn't take so long for Ylisse to answer their call.

As Frederick rounded a corner, the faint glow of candlelight caught his eye. Who in their right mind would still be up at that hour? Dropping his rake outside the tent, he pried apart the magnets that held the flaps together and pushed one flap aside.

His stomach tightened into knots. Was this merely a coincidence, or were the gods involved in some conspiracy to make him feel a fool? The feebly flickering wick that seemed nearly drowning in the puddle of its own wax shone gold upon a familiar head of white hair. Robin was slumped over a desk full of open books and loose sheets of paper, all of them covered with her font-like notes. Most of her face was buried into her sleeve, but the rest was turned to face him. Above her open mouth that drooled into the fabric, her long lashes fluttered just above her cheek. Dreaming, perhaps?

He studied her face for signs of pallor or illness. No, she seemed perfectly healthy – almost too peaceful. The country was on the brink of war; how could she, one of its tacticians, sleep so soundly? She hadn't even noticed him enter. What if he were an assassin? She would have been dead before the eyes her pretty lashes framed had had the chance to open.

He bit his lip. He really shouldn't be thinking about her dying, not after… Well, it was bad practice in general. He walked over to the candle and blew it out. A strand of her hair fluttered from his breath. And if that strand had drifted across the flame and ignited? Or the wind had blown the side of the tent into it? This woman seemed intent on surrounding herself with danger.

Yet, she did not stir, not even at the noises his armor made as he moved around. He marveled at her innocence. His father had taught him to sleep with one eye open since he was a child. Even people passing outside his tent caused him to wake up. But not she.

He wondered if it would be wise to wake her. It was still a long march back to Ylisstol, and everyone needed all the rest they could get in anticipation of stripping the camp and hauling ass back to the capital. Still, sleeping at one's desk was a sure recipe for sore muscles. Robin already was one of the physically weaker members of the Shepherds; even Ricken could probably run circles around her.

Not that he felt like he owed her for saving his life, but, perhaps, this was simply one good deed returning another. He slipped his hands under her armpits and gently lifted her up out of the chair. Her head rolled off her arm and hung limp; if she was awake now, she was pretending otherwise.

He carried her awkwardly over to her bedroll and laid her down, first catching her feet at the end and then lowering her down until her head touched down last. He squatted on his ankles and scanned her to make sure none of her limbs would go numb. No, everything looked where it should be. He had lain her on her back, though, and her coat wasn't covering her stomach. He looked about for a blanket and realized too late that he had lain her on top of it.

Well, she could figure that out for herself, he supposed. Most people turned over in their sleep, anyway. He'd done what he was supposed to do.

A glint in the moonlight caught his eye. He supposed he could do one more thing and plucked a rogue pebble from the ground near her pillow. There, good enough.

He stood up and stuck the pebble into a pouch on his belt. Time to get back to work. He made for the exit and unstuck the magnet that was keeping the tent flap open.

On a whim, he glanced over his shoulder at her sleeping form. Oh, just form. He froze momentarily as he locked eyes with her.

He heard a small whisper of "Thanks," and then she rolled over onto her side. He nodded back, realizing as he did so that she could no longer see him nod, and hastily left the tent. The magnets snapped together behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

The arrival of the palace courier never failed to bring a liveliness to the camp. The Shepherds' relatives and friends sent their mail by way of the palace, so weeks' worth of letters and packages from home would arrive all at once. Robin couldn't help but feel envious; sometimes she wondered if she even had any family left, at least any who would be actively looking for her.

She pretended to read while watching the crowd outside the mail tent. For convenience, it was near Chrom's tent, which was also the reason for the location of her tent. Thus, she had a good vantage point to see all the happy faces eagerly reading their letters or examining what each other's moms had sent them. Well, the camp could use a morale boost after Emmeryn's capture. Robin didn't begrudge them their happiness.

Her fingers toyed with the letter she was waiting to send. The new Shepherd Cordelia had been very, um, _thorough_ in her inspection of the larder and had pre-written an order list for Robin to approve and send ahead to the next town. Well, it was Chrom who had to sign off on it, but Robin couldn't get a straight answer out of Cordelia as to why she couldn't bring it to him herself. Robin didn't really feel like hunting down Chrom just to get his signature, so she forged it – probably a crime, but who was going to have her arrested? Chrom? Lissa? The chain of command above "tactician" was delightfully small.

Any available scouts would be waiting in the mail tent, ready for their orders, but Robin didn't want to cut through the crowd. She would just wait for them to disperse, and then she could pop in and out and get back to studying the stolen tome on Plegian defense strategy. That was what she was doing at the moment, but she couldn't get herself engaged in it. She had the nagging feeling she'd read it before, but she couldn't remember where; the mind forgets, but the body remembers.

One by one they left: Stahl with so many letters that he had to have Kellam help him carry them; Maribelle with the last of her suitcases (hopefully); Sumia with new books cradled in her arms; a bright-red faced Ricken hiding a giant box behind his back; Lon'qu with an opened box and a new scarf wrapped around his neck, both emblazoned with the insignia of Regna Ferox and of such high quality that they had to have come from Khan Basilio, and Vaike, Virion, Sully, Gaius, Donnel and Miriel all reading their letters.

Clear at last. She set her book down and rushed the letter over to the mail tent. The scouts glanced at her as she entered, and one, recognizing her, hopped to his feet at once. As she gave her orders and directions, someone dressed in armor entered the tent behind her. The scout gave a salute and headed out.

"How's your day going?" she asked the two other scouts. They nodded, murmured noncommittedly and returned to their card game, now short a player.

"Mailing a letter?" came Frederick's voice behind her. He was fishing a letter out of the box labeled "Incoming Mail."

"You could call it that. It's just a supply order, though."

"Hmm." He pulled out an envelope and sliced it open.

The scout Robin had sent out came rushing back. "Ma'am, I forgot to ask: Did you get this approved by Prince Chrom? Normally he's the one who brings these by, and I know you're new at this. Without his signature, the grocers won't fill the order."

"Of course, he did." Robin made a mental note to tell Chrom about her forgery. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? It wasn't like she was using his name for nefarious reasons.

The scout nodded and hurried out as fast as he had come.

Frederick scoffed, "Typical." He must have noticed the confused look on Robin's face, because he clarified, "We're in the midst of a war and my father writes to scold me."

"Ah, parents," Robin shook her head. "Must be difficult."

"Indeed. My father served as knight-captain under the previous Exalt. Perhaps this war seems to him but a mere scuffle next to the years of war the former Exalt waged in Plegia."

"Ooh. Very difficult."

"Yes. I come from a long line of knights, and my father has trained me from a young age to succeed him. Only, as I've gotten older, he is more keen to remind me that, at the age I am now, he was already knight-captain, married and had a child on the way – me."

"Goodness. Isn't that a little young?"

"Not to him." Frederick sighed and tucked away the letter. "His latest endeavor has been to push me to marry. He sends a long list of eligible ladies every week. How could I marry someone I barely know?"

"Yeah." Robin's instinct to be helpful kicked in. "Well, what about the women in the Shepherds? You know a lot of them."

"The Shepherds?" He frowned. "Like who?"

"Uhh… Sully? Sumia? Maribelle? There's lots of women here."

Frederick snorted. "Sully? Maribelle? Why not suggest Lady Lissa while you're at it?"

"Well, why not?" Robin joined him in leaning against the table that held the mail.

"Please, be serious. All of those relationships would be inappropriate. I've been a teacher and mentor to the soldiers here; I could never marry a student. Furthermore, Maribelle is the daughter of a duke, and Lady Lissa is the sister of the Exalt. All the women here are either superior to me in rank or people I've been responsible for. There's no one I could just," he broke off.

"Just what?"

He was silent for a moment, shaking his head. "Just be myself around."

"Ah." Robin cupped her chin and stared at the roof of the tent, thinking deeper. "What about Panne or Miriel? They're not really soldiers."

"Hmm." He crossed his arms. "I – no, they're not really my type."

"Picky, picky," Robin chided. "What is your type, then?"

"I … How should I know? I can't just put it into words."

"Blonde? Brunette? Nice? Good smile?"

"If I had to narrow down my list of potential life partners to just 'good smile,' I'd have a list a mile long."

"Well, aren't you sweet." Robin cracked her back and started to leave. "You better rethink your criteria, Freddy Bear, because I'm the last one in the Shepherds you haven't rejected yet."

Before he could reply – or, more likely, ask her to stop calling him Freddy Bear – she cut in, "Let me guess. Not your type? Or do you still distrust me?" She left the tent before he could say an answer she didn't want to hear.

Suddenly annoyed, she decided to put a pin in reading that tactics book and go get something to eat.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some smoochin'. Sort of.

The desert was bringing out the worst in all of them. It was just a short push to Plegia Castle, but the carts and horses were heavily impeded by the sand. Robin's idea to add sled runners under the carts' wheels like Feroxi snow caravans had saved them from having to constantly dig the wheels out of the sand, but it took a long time to outfit the carts with long planks of wood. Everything took longer with the enormous Feroxi army.

Time was running out to train the soldiers to the standards Frederick liked. He decided to concentrate on the biggest thorn in his side, the one responsible for the entire army but who wielded a sword worse than a standard recruit: Robin. In the battle where they'd rescued the manakete girl, her tome had run out of pages, and even from afar he could see that her swordsmanship was sorely lacking. She was too reliant on magic, and he had been too distracted to train her properly. What would the army do if she couldn't defend herself?

He finished all his chores that morning and, after a light lunch, hunted her down. He found her in her tent, furiously reading a book and taking notes. As usual, her desk was littered with notes and hastily scribbled maps and diagrams.

She was too focused on her work and didn't notice him enter. He cleared his throat to announce himself; she jumped so vigorously that she almost knocked over her bottle of ink.

"Gods!" She stopped it from spilling and stoppered it reflexively. "Who—o-oh, it's you." She quickly turned away and straightened up her work with one hand while tucking away stray locks of hair with the other. "Heh. I don't think I've seen you without all that armor on. Did you, uh, did you need something?"

"Yes, actually." He crossed his arms and cocked his head. Ever since their return from Regna Ferox, she had been acting very oddly. Her mannerisms evoked someone desperately trying to hide something: avoiding eye contact – avoiding all contact, really, since she would often find an excuse to be somewhere else when he came near – blushing, fidgeting, stammering. Coming from her, the one who claimed to have no memory of her background, it was more than suspicious.

His resolve to train with her strengthened with his suspicions all but confirmed. After all, 'twould not do to let a snake out of your sight, lest it bites you. "I was watching you in the last battle."

Her eyes widened. "You were?"

"Yes, when your magic ran out and you had to rely on your sword for once. I've never seen such poor swordsmanship from a member of the Shepherds." He shook his head.

"Oh, that, right. Yeah, not my best work." She glanced back at her notes, her arms crossed low over her stomach.

"Get up and follow me. I've scheduled the rest of the afternoon to train you."

"But I need to finish—ah, I guess a change of pace wouldn't hurt." She stood up and made to pull her coat on but stopped halfway. She put it back on the back of her chair and followed Frederick to the tent they had set up for sparring.

As it was the middle of the day and sweltering hot, the tent was empty. "Where are the rest of them?" asked Robin as she grabbed two of the wooden swords and tossed one to Frederick.

"There is no rest of them. We'll be working one-on-one today." He unbuttoned his vest and shirt, folded them neatly and set them on a box so they would not get dirty. He removed his shoes and socks and put them beside his clothes. When he looked back, Robin was staring at him with shock.

"Y—we—uh—oh boy." She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of the hand clutching her sword.

"I recommend you remove your shoes if you don't want them to be filled with sand." He tested the balance of the wooden sword; he usually preferred his with an iron core so it didn't feel like he was playing with a child's toy, but that variety had been left behind in Ylisstol.

Robin stuttered out a "Yeah" and sat down to remove her shoes and socks.

"First, I want to see your form on the dummy. As I recall, the technique you employed the first time I saw you practice was… unorthodox."

"Oh. Well, like I said, I didn't train in Ylisse. So, my technique isn't really Ylissean."

Frederick held back his automatic retort of "What technique?" "Yes, but now I want to see how you've improved with the Ylissean forms. Show me."

Robin plodded through the sand, swinging her light wooden sword in a decidedly novice manner. Again, Frederick held back his urge to criticize. If there was one thing he'd learned working with recruits, it was that too much antagonism only crushed their spirits and made them perform worse. Like any good commander, he had to pick his battles.

She lifted her sword and practiced her swings on the dummy. It wasn't bad, but her stance was off. "Feet." She nodded, repositioned her feet and began again. Somehow, the movement had thrown off her precision, and she was striking the dummy in slightly different angles each time. "Elbow." She glanced at her sword arm and changed the angle of her elbow. Her next attempt seemed less enthusiastic than the first two. Surely she couldn't be getting tired already?

"All right," he stopped her. "Not great, not by a long shot, but … barely adequate."

"Uh, should I apologize or say thank you?" she murmured under her breath. He heard her but chose to ignore it.

"Nothing builds experience like the real thing," he continued, "and the closest to that is sparring. Come, we'll practice."

Her sunburned face seemed to turn redder. "With you?" By the direction of her eyes, she was addressing the sand.

Frederick swallowed his irritation. "Do you have an issue with that?"

"Uh… no?" Still not quite meeting his eye, she stood opposite him.

"Stance," he reminded her, trying not to roll his eyes. She bit her lip and adjusted her body and sword into position.

He pushed a short sigh through his nose. Conscious to minimize the strength of his swing, he attacked. Although the sand slowed the both of them, Robin was deceptively quick, both dodging with her body and blocking with her sword. Yes, she was good at evading and avoiding contact – as good at it in battle as she was in everyday life, he thought wryly. Her attacks, on the other hand, were laughable.

"Pause." They lowered their swords. "Well, first of all, you have to LOOK at the enemy you're fighting."

"What?"

"Look at them. In the eyes. At their face. Don't just look at the sword that's coming at you; keep that in your peripheral. You need to look at what your enemy is looking at. Where will they strike next? Where is their blind spot?"

"Right. I do that, but, uh, just not today."

"What's different about today?"

Again, looking down at the ground! Was she a child afraid of getting in trouble? "Nothing."

"Second: you have to actually try to HURT your enemy. I've seen you hit flies with more force than what you're swinging at me. Do I need to coat myself in honey and trap flies for you to hit me properly?"

"Uh, no, no, please don't do that." She had a sudden coughing fit. "Sorry, excuse me."

Frederick's patience was beginning to wear thin. He stuck the sword in the sand and crossed his arms. "The common denominator today appears to be me. Do you have a problem with me, Robin?"

She stammered out some nonsense words, still unable to look him in the face. "Y-you're distracting me, okay!"

"What? How?"

She just jerked her free hand erratically in his direction. He looked down at himself, and then it struck him.

"Ah. Is it because I'm shirtless?" He took the "ENYEH" sound that she made as a yes. "My apologies. I did not realize you were so modest." He buttoned up his shirt and picked up his sword again. "I had hoped to avoid wrinkling this shirt, but I can always re-iron it later. Is this satisfactory?"

Robin mumbled something under her breath and nodded.

"Stance," he reminded her. As she readied herself, he mused over this new information about her. She didn't seem to have a problem with Vaike running around shirtless. Then again, he did wear that ridiculous collar with chains and a metal plate to protect his innards.

He attacked again. Good, at least she could hold her chin up this time. Yet, her face did not have the expression he wanted. There was no aggression in her eyes, and it showed in her counterstrikes. She was attacking like she wanted him to block her.

"Pause. If you're worried about hurting me, forgive me for sounding arrogant, but you'll have to try very hard to do that."

"No, it's not that. Let's, uh, let's go again?"

At least he didn't need to remind her about her stance again. Still, the more rounds they did, the more her concentration seemed to be slipping. Sure, she was getting tired – breathing more heavily, sweating more profusely, moves growing clumsier – but it seemed something else was on her mind. The more times he had to remind her to look at him, the more annoyed he grew.

"Enough!" He thrust his sword into the sand. Robin froze, her sword still poised to block. "Sparring with you is like sparring with my grandmother, gods rest her soul!"

"Was, uh, was she also a knight-captain?"

"NO!" He sighed and pushed the hair back from his forehead to calm down. "No, she was not. The point I am trying to make is that you have yet to attack me with anything resembling aggression. I've seen you throw things at Lord Chrom with more violence than what you're displaying here."

"Um, that was—"

"So, I don't get it, Robin. I really don't. Are you trying to hide something from me? Is that it?"

The tip of her sword fell to the ground. "H-hide something? W-what could I possibly be hiding?" she protested. Even she had to admit that was the worst attempt at lying either of them had ever seen.

"I, I don't know. Are you injured somewhere? Are you pretending to be weaker than you are? You tell me, Robin."

"No… nothing like that. You want aggression? Okay, I'll be… I'll be aggressive." She raised her sword again.

She looked still more scared than ready to fight, but Frederick chose to overlook that. "All right. Strike me."

She came at him with a feint, which he blocked easily; he, at least, could watch where her eyes were looking. She made a few more swipes which he parried, but then she suddenly dropped to the ground and launched a handful of sand into the air. While it did slow him down a bit, he spun to avoid the cloud and struck back at her. She skidded out of the way and went on the defensive again, her aggression gone.

Frederick decided a little pushing was in order, maybe literally. When she blocked his swing, instead of retreating to avoid putting too much pressure on the sword, he pushed in. She flinched, but he pressed further, hissing in her ear, "Fight back."

She retreated again, looking readier to run away than fight. He had trained many frightened recruits before, but hers was a different kind of fear.

He struck with more ferocity, putting the strength back in his swings, which made her stagger at first. She picked up on his tempo and began to block harder, but he didn't want blocking. Blocking would save your life, but it wouldn't win a battle. He wanted her to want to _win_.

"Fight back!" he repeated, letting loose a swing that she narrowly avoided. She flicked her sword in front of her like a shield, but a sword was not a shield! He struck out suddenly and knocked the sword from her hand. She dove out of the way and picked it up again, but she was too slow.

He pounced, attacking while she was still on the ground. She blocked it with her sword, and then, as he leaned in with more pressure, held up her sword with two hands. Her chest rose and fell visibly with the force of her panting.

A sharp pain erupted on his shin. As he lost his footing and fell, he realized that she'd kicked him in the shin. He caught himself in a push-up before he fell completely on top of her and, inches from her face, he smiled. "Finally!"

Robin moved suddenly under him. He thought she was going to headbutt him, but, no, it was her whole face getting closer. Her lips pressed into his as her arms wrapped around his neck. She was… what? Oh. _Oh_. The way she was moving her lips, eyes closed – she was kissing him.

Kissing him?! He froze. This – what? Some kind of diversion? Was she going to knee him in the crotch? He waited for pain that did not come.

Soon, she froze, too. She withdrew her face and stared up at him with growing horror. "Oh, fuck."

She wriggled out from under him and escaped out the tent before he could even process what had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sparring with your shirtless crush? Now that's some quality fanfiction nonsense ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	8. Chapter 8

Frederick had always been good about finding work to do that no one else could even think was necessary to be done. Now, the day before they were due to march into Plegia Castle, the day before the Exalt was—the day before they would rescue the Exalt, he found no end of little tasks to keep his mind off of—whatever it was that he needed to keep his mind off of.

By nightfall, he felt more confident. Every little task that he could possibly imagine to do was done, and thus, the army was more than prepared for tomorrow's attack. Moreover, during the final battle preparations with the Khans, he had successfully avoided looking at R—at anything that could distract him from the mission at hand.

He went into the prince's tent for one final pep talk. Lord Chrom was seated on the edge of his bed, his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together and his chin resting on his knuckles – deep in thought, indeed. There was little to ask him that he hadn't already, so he simply said, "Is there anything I can do for you, my Lord?"

"Yes," Chrom replied slowly. Without lifting his head, he flicked his eyes up at Frederick. "I have a task I want done, and I don't trust anyone but you to do it."

What a pleasant surprise! Surprising, but pleasant. "Name it, Milord."

"Tomorrow, in the battle, I want you to," Chrom swallowed, "I want you to protect Robin. Make sure no harm comes to her."

Robin? Wouldn't he have his hands full with the prince and princess, not to mention the Exalt herself? "Of course," Frederick replied, unable to hide the hesitation in his voice. In the hope of clarifying his lack of unquestioning resolve, he added, "Why her?"

"It's…" Chrom trailed off. He sat up and stretched his arms out to the ceiling. Still looking up, he put his hands behind him and shifted his balance backward. "It's funny. I'm worried to death for everyone – Em, Lissa, the Shepherds, all the soldiers who will die tomorrow – but when I think of Robin, I feel a different kind of terror. She's… special to me."

"She… is a good tactician." Frederick concentrated very hard on the bedpost.

"More than that," Chrom continued. "She's… my partner in crime." ("Oh, no," thought Frederick.) "My friend." ("Oh, no.") "My _best_ friend." ("Oh, no. No, no, no, no—") "I've only known her for a short while, but I feel like I've known her forever." ("No, no, no, no—") "It's like, there was whole other side of me that was missing that I didn't even know was. ("Shit, shit, shit, shit—") "Yeah… two halves of one whole. You get what I'm getting at?" Chrom sighed. "I… love her."

Frederick was grateful Chrom wasn't looking at him; his poker face was breaking. "That's… great."

"I'm sorry. I know Robin was never your favorite person. And I know you'll have nothing but reasons against this, but—aah, what am I doing? I need to focus." He rolled over and fell on the bed, his arm draped across his forehead. "Yes, I need to focus. Once we've rescued Em and beaten Gangrel, then I can… Well, I need to focus. That's why I need you to help me protect her, Frederick. Can you do that for me?"

 _Fuck_. "Of course, Milord. Good night."

"Good night, Frederick."

Even when Frederick closed his eyes, the image of Robin's face as she was kissing him seemed to be drawn on the back of his eyelids. His body remembered her touch as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into him. _Shit_.

He was going to have to break her heart, wasn't he?

Every muscle in his body seemed to clench. It would be okay. She was… had probably just been caught up in the moment. Yes, that had to be it. What woman would love a knight when she could have a prince? It would be fine. Everything would work out. He just… he had to…

Frederick had the sinking feeling in his stomach that he was not going to sleep well that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all that, a love triangle? Really? (╯ ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)╯┻━┻ (Not really)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No smooches, only sadness; a scene after the Midmire

The Khans had expected to drive the retreat straight on through the border, but the heavy rains had muddied up the roads and made it impossible for the caravans to continue. To everyone's surprise, after the general fell, his men fled rather than press on, and none so far had pursued them. They made camp that night and prayed that the rain would cease.

Most of their supplies had been abandoned outside Plegia Castle. Losses there had been substantial on both sides. Even with fewer mouths to feed, the Feroxi-Ylissean army felt the pangs of hunger as they tended their wounds and found what shelter they could. Most piled into the caravans, whose canvas roofs kept the rain out. The rest crawled underneath and tried their best to keep the mud and water away. Wet meant cold, and cold promised death.

Despite the scarcity, one caravan was left mostly empty to leave the prince and princess privacy for their grief. Only a trusted few remained at their side, but they felt hopeless to console them. How could they? All had reason to weep that night – the failure of the campaign, the loss of so many friends and soldiers, the loss of a beloved leader, the miserable weather and the dismal state in which they found themselves – but none more so than the late Exalt's siblings.

Frederick and Robin had scavenged the camp and returned with food, water and blankets, while Maribelle did her best to see that they were in good health and secure from the elements, but Chrom and Lissa seemed impervious to their surroundings, unaware of what was happening around them. Frederick handed them food, but they would not eat; Maribelle dried them off and removed as much of their wet clothes as she could, but they did not move; Robin draped blankets over their shoulders, but they did not stop shivering.

Lissa lost the strength or will to sit upright, and she drooped over onto Chrom's shoulder, her face contorted as if she were being physically tortured. Chrom was hunched over and cradled his head in his hands, his nails digging into his hair. Neither seemed to notice when their friends tried to comfort them with soft words or touches, and so they quietly withdrew and sat as witnesses to their grief. There was nothing more to be done.

Lissa fell asleep first, and Maribelle gently pulled her onto the makeshift bed she already had prepared. Chrom pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms tightly around them. He had his face hidden, and they could only tell he was asleep when his shoulders stopped shuddering. He was too tense to be moved, so they wrapped him in blankets and put others around him so he could sink into them if he wanted. Maribelle lay down beside Lissa, brushing away the hair that stubbornly kept falling into her tear-soaked face, furious with herself for not being able to do more.

Robin shrank into a corner and adopted a similar pose to Chrom, except her aching eyes kept vigil over Chrom and Lissa. She felt numb and was grateful for it. It was a miracle they had escaped with their lives, and like lightning, miracles never struck twice. Terror, rage, self-loathing, regret – she blocked it all out. There was nothing more to be done. That could be done.

Her eyes flickered over to Frederick. From his standing vigil, he moved jerkily like a statue come to life and slipped out of the caravan. With a glance at the three sleeping bodies to ensure she would not disturb them, Robin followed him out.

Finally, the rain had stopped, but few were awake to notice. Frederick disappeared into one of the caravans and came out with a wooden crate. Robin followed him to the outskirts of the camp to see what he was doing. He pulled out an axe and swung at the crate, mercilessly chopping it into firewood. Understanding, Robin ducked into the nearest caravan and removed an empty crate that was placed near the entrance. Careful not to wake anyone, she brought it to Frederick and dropped it wordlessly at his feet, leaving to fetch more.

When they had a good collection of firewood, she helped him carry it out to the spaces between the caravans and build campfires. She pulled out a fire tome and lit them. One plank remained, and she placed it in the mud next to a fire. She motioned at Frederick to join her, and to her surprise, he did. They watched down the aisle as some soldiers crawled out from under the caravans and huddled around the fires.

Robin decided to break the silence. "Do you want to take the first watch, or should I?"

Frederick grunted. "Go ahead and sleep. I don't deserve rest."

Robin's stomach tightened in hunger, and she realized she hadn't eaten. She crossed her arms over her stomach and pressed in, as if to compress the emptiness within. "What do you mean, 'deserve?'"

Firelight flickered off Frederick's armor, and she realized he was shaking, his whole body clenched up like a fist. "What use am I?" he hissed. "A knight who failed to save his Exalt?"

"We all failed. Nothing was enough. Blaming yourself won't change anything." Robin rested her chin on her crossed arms, staring through the campfire at the soldiers huddling together in the distance. "If you want someone to blame, blame the tactician."

The cedar planks in the campfire popped and crackled, sending sparks to fade away and die in the mud. The fire crunched through the wood, eating it black and spitting out white. Robin's face blazed with the heat of it, but all she could focus on was the cold at her back.

The tension in Frederick snapped, and a strangled sob announced his tears. He hid his face in his hand, but the campfire revealed his mouth contorted with despair and the tears dribbling off his chin. Robin felt her shell of numbness cracking and dug her nails into her arms. The awareness of her helplessness crushed her. Traitorous tears slipped through and soon followed the flood.

Still, she would not close her eyes. She stared through her tears at the soldiers in front of her, seeing the ghosts of the ones she had failed lingering around their friends. Every sob that croaked out of Frederick felt like the slice of a knife inside her; in a way, she was responsible for this pain, for his pain, and the pressure of it, the icy terror of that responsibility for everyone's lives, the living and the dead, their families left behind, felt like a hand tightening around her throat.

But she was used to that feeling. And she knew that she had saved a great many more from worse suffering. She was capable, yes, but just. Not. Enough.

They owed their safety to Emmeryn and her sacrifice. She realized it when they fought the troops under General Mustafa, when the enemy's expressions were not those of hate or malice. Emmeryn's death had touched them, too. She died in the name of a peace they craved. Robin saw their conviction in their king crumbling at that battle in the Midmire; would it spread, a ripple turned into a wave, through the rest of the Plegian army?

Sniffling up her tears, Robin said through clenched teeth, "It isn't over. We'll rip the head off the snake, and the rest will fall."

If Frederick heard her, he gave no sign of it. They sat together in silence, ostensibly keeping watch, but, in reality, just trying to make it through the night.


	10. Chapter 10

The scream of victory tore through the ranks of the Ylissean and Feroxi armies as word spread of the Mad King's defeat. Plegian soldiers dropped their weapons in the field and ran for home, less a retreat than a liberation. The soldiers rallied around their leaders, cheering; the Khans echoed back the jubilation with triumphant roars, but Chrom seemed caught in a fog.

His melancholy carried on to sunset, at the close of that whirlwind of a day. Chrom found refuge at a corner of the ramparts near a cliff, where the view was of sprawling, forested hills, so serene compared with the blood-scarred battlefield behind him. Frederick had done as the prince had requested, and now he stood guard nearby, ensuring no one disturbed the impending disaster Frederick feared would occur – but disaster for whom, he did not know.

The distance between them was not enough to prevent Frederick from overhearing their conversation. His heart sank with the weight of his knowledge, for he knew how this would play out: Robin would walk up to Chrom and congratulate him on their hard-won but well-deserved victory. He would say the same to her, and then she would ask why he asked to see her. Flushed with the intoxication of victory but burdened with the new responsibilities of government, Chrom would reveal his feelings for Robin and ask her to be his queen. And she…

Frederick's heart jumped in horror when he heard Khan Basilio's booming laugh sound not too far from where he was keeping watch. He glanced back quickly to make sure Chrom and Robin weren't disturbed – they weren't – and then hurried to intercept the intruders.

Khan Flavia he expected, but he was surprised to see the third with them: Sumia, blushing crimson, with Khan Basilio's arm thrown about her shoulders.

"Ah! … You!" Basilio grinned at Frederick. "Flavia and I came to say goodbye to Chrom, but we caught a little lovebird searching for him, too!"

"Oaf!" Flavia scolded. "That's enough teasing. So… you, do you know where Chrom is."

"I do, but, please, I beseech you to, uh, wait. Milord, is… occupied."

"Occupied, huh? Let's see about that," declared Flavia, and she marched on past Frederick.

"Wait!" Frederick hissed in vain.

Flavia gasped. "Oaf! Get over here!" she whisper-screamed.

"What's this, now?" Basilio shouted back, but Flavia and Frederick shushed him. Unable to stop the Khans, Frederick followed them helplessly.

"Sumia, you really shouldn't—" he tried to say, but Sumia squeezed between Flavia and Basilio, and the three of them peered over conveniently-placed wooden crates. Frederick tried to urge them to leave, but they shushed all his efforts. Defeated, he stood next to Basilio, unable to stop himself from eavesdropping.

"Chrom is occupied… with Robin…?" Sumia whispered. "What are they talking about?"

"Shh!" Flavia fake-swatted her.

Chrom's and Robin's voices were faint but audible. They were discussing the battle and thanking each other. Then came some compliments, more heavily from Chrom.

And then, the fatal words: "Will you marry me?"

Flavia and Sumia gasped. "Oh gods," moaned Sumia.

"We should go—" whispered Frederick, but Flavia and Basilio shushed him together.

"An Exalt's marriage is of international concern!" Flavia insisted. "We should at least know when to come out to congratulate them."

The loving cries of bliss they expected to hear took longer to arrive than predicted. They leaned in closer, and then, the death blow: Robin laughed.

"You really had me going there!" she said. "You almost sounded sincere."

"I… I was sincere. I _am_ sincere. Robin, I—"

"You what? You? Me? _Married_? That's not the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard?"

"Wha—Ridiculous? What do you mean?"

("Oh, Robin, no," groaned Flavia. "What are you doing?")

"I mean, the prince of the Halidom, and some girl he found in the woods? And you—why in the world would you ask me to get married?"

"I—because I love you!"

(Sumia squeaked and clapped her hands over her mouth.)

"You what? You _love_ me? Since when?"

"Si-since I first met you! Robin, I—"

"What do you mean, since you met me? Why have you never mentioned this before? At all? And you just spring upon me _marriage_ —"

"We, we were at war! I was going to, but Em—The timing wasn't right, okay? And now, it is!"

"Is it? Chrom, you, you can't just spring this on me! I had no idea! I had no—do you even know what you're saying? How can you love me? You barely even know me. _I_ barely know me!"

"I know enough!" cried Chrom. "You're brilliant, and you're passionate, and you always put others before yourself. You're the best kind of person, and you're the best friend I've ever had! Robin—"

"Chrom! We know nothing about who I am, who I've been, my past. I could have been the worst kind of person. I could have been an enemy of yours. I could have people I already cared about, already love. I can't love, I can't marry anyone until I'm sure I can!"

"We can work through that! Robin, we'll scour the world for your past, but I want you by my side! I want—"

"I can't! I can't!" Robin cried, repeating it until it grew into a shriek and she ran away down the other side of the ramparts. Chrom made a step as if to chase after her, but he stopped, unable to move further.

" _Damn_." Basilio shook his head.

"Not to be insensitive," Flavia muttered, "but I think our chances of poaching Robin just went up."

"…But does _she_ love _him_?" whispered Sumia.

"…No," said Frederick. The Khans and Sumia whipped their heads to stare at him, but he shook his head. "Please, it isn't right for us to be here. If Milord sees—"

"I see. No, I got it. Come on, we need to, uh, be elsewhere." Flavia urged Basilio and Sumia to follow her, and they scurried away.

Seeing Chrom so defeated almost brought tears to Frederick's eyes. He swallowed the turmoil away and turned his back to him, staring down the empty rampart, a guard once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Chrobiners


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here comes the self-indulgent fluff. Reader beware

Tharja's groans cut across the soft waltz music that emanated from the ballroom. Robin stroked her hair comfortingly and enjoyed the warmth of the night air. The tall shrubs of the hedge maze blocked out the sights of the ballroom, but the gardens were lit by dozens of lanterns, and the candlelight cast a beautiful glow that Robin couldn't help but enjoy.

"I think you should go to bed," she repeated for the umpteenth time.

"Mm-MM!" Tharja refused, thrashing a bit as she lay on Robin's lap. "I keep telling you, it's just indigestion. I need to wait for my curse to take effect."

"For your sake, I'm glad it rebounded on you," Robin scolded. "To curse a groom at his own wedding? That's low, Tharja."

"Ugh!" Tharja groaned. "It's nothing compared to what he's done to you!"

"He hasn't done anything. It's," Robin sighed, "it's not his fault. It's not anyone's fault. Well, it's those ladies' fault, but still."

"And yet," Tharja groaned again, "here we are, hiding in the gardens, just because he asked you first."

"It's okay. I'm not one for parties," Robin lied. She resumed stroking Tharja's hair as another groan hit her and she shuddered heavily. "Do I need to carry you to your room?"

"No. I'm fine," Tharja hissed through gritted teeth. "I need to avenge you. Those hateful crows! Looking down on you, spreading rumors—"

"It's fine. I don't mind," Robin lied again. "They're Sumia's family, after all. There's no reason they should welcome my presence."

"Even if you don't mind, I do. I'll—ow!"

"Tharja!" Robin cried. "If it's that bad, we need to find you a healer."

"I'll be fine." Tharja sat up and reached into her purse. She pulled out a vulnerary and downed it. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she leaned into Robin and sighed. "You deserve better."

"It's not my night." Robin wrapped her arm around Tharja's shoulders. "I'll manage. You should worry about yourself more. Did that vulnerary help any?"

"A bit." Tharja sighed. "Do you think the priest brought a staff?"

"No, but I'm sure Libra has one in his quarters. Do you want me to go get him?"

"No, you shouldn't," Tharja coughed, "you shouldn't go back in there. Wait for the hags to leave. I can, I can go find him."

"Yeah, I think you should. Are you sure you don't want my help?"

"Stay here," warned Tharja.

"Good night, Tharja. Feel better!" Robin sighed as Tharja gingerly left.

Alone again. Robin felt the wine stain to see if it had dried fully; it hadn't. At least the fabric of her dress was fairly dark. Still, she felt silly for having spent so much money on it. When was she ever going to wear it again? She didn't think any of her other friends were going to get married anytime soon.

Guilt bubbled in her stomach. Should she have even come? Sumia had insisted it would be all right, but Robin wondered if Sumia resented her for making her the second choice. It wasn't like she meant to. But it felt like her mere existence was causing pain to both Chrom and Sumia. It wasn't her fault, but it sure felt like it was.

Maybe it was a mistake. After the wine-spilling "accident," Robin didn't want to cause any more scenes and hid in the garden. A hedge maze was a perfect place to hide, but now she was stuck there. She couldn't cut through the ballroom again. She would just wait for everyone to leave. But how long was that going to be?

She thought back to her ruined wine-soaked piece of cake that she couldn't finish. That was the biggest crime of all.

Robin sighed and looked up at the sky. It was a picture-perfect night, a beautiful night for a beautiful wedding. She wanted them to have a wonderful night; after the stress of picking up the pieces that the war and Emmeryn had left behind, they deserved it. More than that, she wanted to be a part of it, but if hiding in the garden would keep the peace, then so be it.

Weddings were a foolish affair: so many expectations, so much drama. She should have known coming would be a bad idea, but she had gotten caught up in everyone's excitement. Helping the servants write and mail invitations, shopping for dresses with the other Shepherds who weren't in the bridal party, spending all night making new centerpieces after the ones that were ordered got left out in the rain two days before the ceremony, the huge feast the night before—and now all the giddiness had popped like a bubble. At least it wasn't raining.

She heard some rustling in the hedges. Virion had passed by earlier with a giggling lady in tow; Robin worried they might turn a wrong corner and end up where she was. Oh, wouldn't that be the icing on the cake.

The rustling got louder, but at least there was no giggling. Instead, there was a single, quiet expletive.

"Are you lost?" Robin called out.

She raised her eyebrows as the unlikeliest sight came sheepishly around the corner: Frederick, holding an enormous piece of cake. It was an edge piece and had an enormous amount of icing on it, Robin's favorite part; her mouth began to water at the sight of it.

"Ah. They were wondering where you went."

"Is that so?" Robin was distracted. "What are you doing with that cake?"

Frederick looked down. "I was, um, looking for a quiet place to eat it."

"Come, sit!" Robin waved him over. "I'll be quiet."

"That isn't necessary," said Frederick awkwardly. He sat down as far away from Robin as he could and pulled his fork from his pocket.

"Is the cake good?" Robin worried that her voice was too eager. "I haven't really had any."

"Oh." Frederick's fork paused mid-air. "Did you want it?"

"No, no," Robin lied emphatically, "I couldn't take your cake."

"It's all right. This would be my third piece. You should have some."

Robin couldn't suppress her smile. "If you insist!" Hand-delivered cake! Maybe the night was turning around. The first bite was amazing: sweet, yes, but not overly so, and the frosting melted perfectly in her mouth, and the cake did, too, in just the best way. Her eyes closed of their own accord from sheer culinary joy.

When they opened again, she noticed Frederick was staring at her. "Sorry," she said through a mouthful of cake, covering her mouth with her hand. After swallowing, she added, "This is just really good cake."

Frederick chuckled. "Yeah, it is. I'm glad you had some."

"Me too," she agreed with relish. She ate slowly, savoring each bite, and scraped the frosting off the plate when the cake was gone. She caught Frederick staring again and blushed.

He turned his head and coughed. "Anyway," he smoothly transitioned, "have you, uh, just been sitting here by yourself?"

"No, Tharja was hanging out with me, but she, ah, wasn't feeling well and went in. I’m just enjoying the night."

"It is a nice night," he agreed. "I'm usually asleep by this time so I don't see the stars much."

"Oh? Are you tired, then?"

"Not at all."

They stared up at the rectangle of visible sky, the awkward silence growing heavier.

"What's that on your dress?"

"Oh." Robin wondered if she could make up a good lie, but she couldn't. "Someone spilled wine on me. Accidentally."

"Oh, _that's_ what happened?! I should have her escorted out." Frederick growled.

"Nah, it's fine. It was an accident, I'm reasonably sure," Robin lied.

"If you say so. Still, don't feel as though you must hide out here."

"No, I'm not. I just don't want to ruffle any more feathers. I really shouldn't have come in the first place. I don't know why I thought this was a good idea."

"It's not your wedding."

"Exactly."

"No, wait, that's not what I mean to say." Robin had never seen him look flustered before; it was a good look on him. As was the tuxedo he was wearing. "I mean, it's Milord and Sumia's – I suppose I should say Milady now – Milord and Milady's wedding. You're here as their invited guest. There is no need for you to hide in the garden."

"Well, if I were inside, I suppose I'd just be gorging myself on cake. That's not a good look for a wedding."

Frederick laughed. "Not one for dancing, then, I take it?"

Robin's smile turned wistful as she recalled all the dancing lessons she had taken with Sully and Miriel. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to it, but, well, I guess I can dance anywhere, anytime."

"That's… true."

"What about you? I don't suppose knights dance much."

Frederick shrugged, staring intently at the shrub ahead. "It depends on one's preference. I took lessons as a child to add flexibility to my form."

"And as Chrom's bodyguard, I guess you went to all the balls he did. I bet you had all the pretty girls lining up to dance with you!"

She laughed when he blushed. "No, there was no lining up, and, uh, no dancing. I never allowed myself time for such distractions."

"Oh? That's a shame for the ladies. You'd be a wonderful dancing partner."

"Would you like to?" he asked quickly.

"Like to what? Dance?"

"Yes."

"Oh! Sure! Let me just," she set aside the plate and fork. Her heart beat in a panic as she tried to remember how to waltz. She nervously checked herself for crumbs and smoothed her skirt. When she stood up, Frederick had his hand out.

"Okay," she said, taking it, "just to warn you, I haven't had a dance partner who isn't Sully, so go easy on me."

"Certainly," he smiled his closed-lips smile. "We'll go slow."

"Right, so," said Robin to fill the air. She reached up to place her hand on his shoulder as their joined hands extended to the side. She barely felt his hand on her waist, his touch was so light. "First, it's right foot back…"

"For you, yes. Just follow the—ah! Forgive me!"

"It's okay, you didn't step down. Uh, let's start again. Foot back, foot over, join, up, up and over, touch at the corner, and back again! Great, next time with less narration." Frederick chuckled.

Robin didn't know if it were the wine, but she felt a bit lightheaded. She tightened her grip on his shoulder and felt his hand press in more on her waist. She had to tilt her head back to look up at his face, and the backdrop of stars made everything feel more magical. The steps of the dance still felt strange, but with a partner responding to the movements she made, pushing and pulling like the swings of the tide, her confidence bloomed.

"Looks like you still remember your moves!" she beamed.

Frederick hummed and directed her into a spin, first one way and then back again. Robin tripped a bit on her dress but laughed it off. Yes, the night was turning out better than she could have hoped. Not even the reminder of Virion and his giggling paramour could break the spell.


	12. Robin's Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years ahead of schedule, Robin and friends complete a paralogue in Regna Ferox and come home with a mysterious, long-forgotten relative.

The noontime sun glared off the armor of the returning party, obscuring the individual faces. Upon crossing the castle gates, two knights on horseback broke ranks and charged forward up the path. Their red and green armor, like the Panther and the Bull of old, gave them away.

Sully pulled her horse up to the welcome party, shouting a hello. Chrom stepped forward to help her off her horse, but she predictably ignored his hand and slid smoothly off her horse with the reins still in her grip.

"You guys are not gonna believe who we brought back with us," she called as Stahl pulled up next to her horse.

"We know. Robin sent a letter ahead explaining everything," Chrom replied, patting her horse on its side.

"Did she recommend him joining the Shepherds, because hot damn, can that kid duel. Hey, Frederick, I'd love to see you spar with him."

Suddenly put on the spot, Frederick shrugged. Stahl distracted Sully by asking her horse's reins from her, and Chrom stepped off to the side to greet the remainder of the party.

Maribelle's butler rushed forward as she approached. He helped her down, took her horse's reins and followed Stahl to the stables. Lissa came down to meet her. Maribelle, somehow tidier than Lissa, even after the long ride from Regna Ferox, brushed some dirt off Lissa's shoulder as she hugged her.

The baggage cart rolled along as its driver directed his horse to the stables, leaving the view clear for all to gawk at the two who had caused such a shock only a few days prior: Robin and her mysterious, long-lost brother.

Robin slid off the horse's back and landed awkwardly on the ground. Chrom rushed forward to see if she was all right, and she was. Her brother hopped down off his horse, and Sully took the reins from him to steer his horse to the stables. The horse gave a whinny of protest and looked back at his owner, as if wondering why he wasn't coming along.

The small crowd that had been waiting to meet this surprise brother came closer, forming a semicircle around them. Frederick stood behind Chrom, glowering suspiciously, while Lissa left Maribelle's side and went over to meet the newcomer.

"Hey, everyone! I'm Morgan, Robin's little brother!" he called out cheerfully and waved.

"Little brother, huh?" Chrom stepped closer to shake his hand. "And they found you in a ruin, as lost and amnesiac as Robin was when we found her?"

"I know, I was surprised, too," replied Morgan.

The family resemblance was undeniable. Over his cavalier's armor he wore a coat that was identical to Robin's, and his face looked just like hers. The one main difference was his hair, not pure white like hers, but dark brown.

"Of all the places for a family reunion, huh?" Chrom laughed. He turned to Robin and asked, "Did you guys have any trouble on the way back?"

"Not at all," said Robin, stretching her back. "Khan Flavia had a group of her knights escort us all the way to the walls of Ylisstol. I've never seen her so generous; she even sent along a chest of gold in the baggage cart. Though, I don't think any of us were expecting to actually find Naga's Tear in those ruins, much less a kid brother." She ruffled Morgan's hair.

"That's good to hear. There's lunch waiting for us in the great hall. Come on, we're all eager to hear what you've been up to."

Chrom led the way through the courtyard to the dining hall. The delicious smells of a feast wafted out through the open doors. Many of the castle's inhabitants had already started eating, but they all stood and applauded when the returning party came through. Sully and Stahl milked the cheers while the rest of the crowd quickly found seats.

Lissa steered them to the head of the table, where Sumia was already eating. She welcomed them back and motioned for everyone to take a seat.

"So, tell us," continued Lissa, who took the seat nearest Morgan so she could pester him with questions, "what all DO you remember?"

"Honestly, all I can remember is my mom – and my sister," said Morgan. "The theory Robin and I came up with is that our memory losses are connected, like we had a spell or curse placed on us."

"You know, that makes so much sense," said Lissa, looking over at Maribelle on her right to see if she was nodding along, too. "I had asked the royal physician about Robin's amnesia when she first joined us in Ylisstol, and the doctor said amnesia like that almost never happens."

"Interesting, a spell," said Chrom. "What do you remember about your family?"

"Uh—well, not much," Morgan admitted. "I remember things, but usually when something reminds me of something, you know?"

"Okay, well, do you know where you and Robin are from?"

"Uh-huh. I was born in Ylisse, and my mom is from Plegia. Oh, and Robin's from Plegia, too."

Robin's fork stopped in midair. "Come again?"

"Plegia?!" Lissa's hand covered her mouth in shock.

"Yeah, I remember you always hated Plegia," said Morgan to Robin, "and you left as soon as you could. Something about your dad – our dad – being a not very nice person."

"Huh. Seems you know more about me than I do," said Robin. Morgan grinned.

"So, do you know why Robin got trained as a tactician? And a mage?" asked Chrom.

"Um, not really. My mom also taught me those things growing up. I guess it was the family business. Or, maybe not, maybe our parents just had weird hobbies."

"You're a mage?" asked Lissa. "But you look like a cavalier!"

"Yeah, I am. I'm better with a sword than a spellbook. Actually, I'm really good with a sword, as it turns out. Both of those knights down there, uh, Sully and Stahl, I sparred with both of them and handed their butts to them."

"Really? Even Sully?" asked Frederick. "I mentored her myself."

"Oh, really? Um, who are you?" asked Morgan.

"I'm Frederick, the lieutenant of the Shepherds, once a royal knight."

"Wow, a royal knight? That sounds pretty cool," Morgan exclaimed. "I wonder if I could be a knight."

"Not bloody likely," Frederick replied automatically. Reddening, he cleared his throat and said, "What I mean to say is, it takes many years of training and dedication to be a royal knight."

"Oh. Well, what about a Shepherd? You guys just let Robin in without knowing much about her."

"Um," Chrom cleared his throat, "that's because she showed a lot of tactical skill in the two battles we fought together before she joined." He covered his face with his hand to avoid Frederick's stare.

"I'm pretty tactical, aren't I?" Morgan looked at Robin with sparkling eyes.

Robin took a long sip of diluted wine. "Yeah, you've got a good mind for chess, at least," she agreed. "And there's no denying you're great with a sword."

"Hm," cut in Frederick, "so everyone's been saying, but there's only one way to settle a question of skill. Perhaps after lunch, we could have a quick spar."

"Yeah! That sounds great!" Morgan beamed.

Chrom sighed. "The boy just got here, and already you want to whack him with a sword."

"Isn't that Frederick's default?" asked Lissa. "He always looks like he wants to whack everyone with a sword."

Morgan laughed. "That's okay. No one hits harder than my dad."

"Your dad?" asked Robin.

"Right, right, our dad." Morgan winked at her. "Siblings, huh?" he nodded to Lissa, who agreed emphatically.

"You remember your dad? Our dad?" asked Robin.

"Um, not really. I know he taught me how to use a sword and lance and ride horseback, but I don't remember much about him."

"You said he wasn't very nice," Lissa reminded him. "Was he mean to you?"

"I, uh, I don't think so. But that's because Robin and I have different dads," said Morgan. "We're, uh, half-siblings!"

Robin dropped her head into her hand. "Half-siblings, huh, Morgan?"

"Um, yup! Half, whole, same difference."

"So, if your father taught you how to fight, was he a warrior? A knight? A mercenary?" asked Chrom.

"I don't remember. A mercenary sounds good, let's go with that!" Morgan took a bite of his food.

Chrom, Lissa and Sumia laughed, but Frederick noticed that Robin looked a bit pale. "Is something wrong, Robin?" he asked.

"Huh?" Robin looked up and flushed to see everyone looking at her. "No, it was, uh, just a really long ride. I'm not used to riding horseback."

"It's okay. You just have to get used to it," said Morgan. "I for one feel like I could go for a few dozen more miles!"

"I'm sure your horse would thank you if you didn't," laughed Sumia.

When they finished lunch, they headed to the courtyard. When Frederick and Morgan stood across from each other and drew their swords, a crowd started to gather.

"You ready for a smackdown?" crowed Sully. "And I'm not talking to you, Morgan."

"Hey, don't jinx me!" Morgan waved his sword in the air.

"Whenever you're ready," called Frederick. Morgan instantly adopted a stance that mirrored Frederick's.

"Look at that!" shouted Vaike. "The kid's got style!"

Those who could see Morgan's face noticed the rapid change from happy and carefree to sharp and analytical. It was as though all the energy drained from his smile and gathered in his brow. Despite himself, Frederick felt a small chill run through his spine.

The kid moved fast, only to feint and switch directions. Frederick's reflexes were good, but Morgan's seemed better. It was as though Morgan knew the exact instant Frederick went in for a strike and would switch gears to catch him off guard. He rarely clashed with Frederick in a test of strength, as Sully or the other knights would have done. Instead, he retreated and sidestepped, dodging rather than taking Frederick's hits on his blade. When he would engage, he twisted and feinted his sword around Frederick's, redirecting his swipes and blocking the rest.

The knowledge that this kid was essentially toying with him hung over Frederick like a cloud, but he didn't allow himself to get angry. He suspected Morgan was trying to tire him out and slowed his offense accordingly. Despite himself, he was impressed. Morgan held his gaze the way an expert would, watching his eyes and keeping notice of the sword blades only in his peripherals. His technique couldn't have been better if Frederick himself had taught him. He didn't even seem to be breaking a sweat.

"Enough!" Frederick called, backing away. Morgan's intensity disappeared and his eyes widened in surprise. His body remained frozen in the same stance he had been in, his sword completely still and controlled. "Your father taught you well."

Morgan smiled. He relaxed and sheathed his sword, as did Frederick. "Does this mean I'm a Shepherd?" asked Morgan.

"That's not for me to say, but I cannot doubt your skill. You truly are exceptional."

Although it didn't seem possible, Morgan beamed even wider. Chrom came up and clapped him on the back.

"It's been a while since anyone was able to go toe-to-toe with Frederick!" he commended him. "The Shepherds would be lucky to have you!"

Morgan let out a very manly squeal and squeezed Robin in a hug. The crowd's awed admiration broke apart into laughs and they dispersed, some stopping to pat Morgan on the back in congratulations.

"Can you believe it!" cried Morgan as he released Robin.

"Oh, I can believe it!" she said, her eyes flickering between Morgan's hair and Frederick's. She laughed to try to get rid of her discomfort and ruffled Morgan's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it too obvious? It might be too obvious. Oh, well, hope you enjoyed :D Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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